


A Little Rumour

by Tangela



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Grievous Misuse of the Turbolift, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-16
Updated: 2016-09-16
Packaged: 2018-08-15 10:04:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8052067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangela/pseuds/Tangela
Summary: McCoy has another run-in with Chekov. (written as a prompt fill on tumblr and a vague continuation of a previous fic.)





	A Little Rumour

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a prompt that Exorin sent me on tumblr (check out her work, she's such a good writer.)
> 
> “okay so kirk finds out about bones and chekov and is immediately a jerk to bones about it like, /did he do the thing?/, /he's so good at [insert sex act here] right?, and bones is just 'please stop talking' but he can't stop thinking about chekov afterwards and he runs into the kid and literally ends up pinning him against the inside of the turbolift and chekov just grins and is like, 'you spoke to the keptin, didn't you.' and it's a Whole Thing. go.”
> 
> She has a lot of fics that have established that Kirk and Chekov have some sort of relationship, mostly sexually, so this fic is sort of drawing on that, and a previous McChekov fic that I wrote and posted here. I hope this is okay!

“You’re in an uncharacteristically good mood, Bones,” Kirk muses, his lips twitching upwards into a little smile.

McCoy raises an eyebrow, Kirk having effectively wiped the smile off his face. God, he was good at that. “And just what the hell is that supposed to mean?” he demands.

“Relax, will you? I’m just saying that you seem happier than usual. What happened?” Kirk’s smile widens. “Or should I say, _who_ happened?”

McCoy scowls, cheeks reddening faintly, and Kirk laughs. “I was right! I need every detail, who was it?”

McCoy leans in close to Kirk. “You wanna say it louder for the whole damn bridge to hear?”

Kirk waves a hand dismissively. “Nobody can hear us, Bones, don’t worry about it. Now who was it?”

“None of your damn business,” McCoy hisses, suddenly very interested in the PADD in his hands. He only came up to the bridge for a damn signature, not to be interrogated. He knows from experience that there’s no point in trying to deny it – Kirk’s deceptively shrewd, and McCoy reckons he’s made enough of an idiot out of himself already.

“Oh, come on, you can trust me.”

McCoy snorted, writing something down. _‘In a pig’s eye.’_

“Who was it?”

McCoy’s body betrays him and his eyes flicker up momentarily before returning to the PADD. His whole face feels as if it’s on fire now, and he braces himself. Kirk’s eyes widen in pure delight.

 _“Chekov?”_ he asks incredulously. McCoy tries to shush him, but it’s too late. Chekov’s heard him and is already turning around in his chair.

“Yes, Keptin?” he answers.

Kirk smiles, running with the situation as it’s presented itself, and beckons him over. “Come here a sec.”

McCoy desperately wants the ground to open up and swallow him. “Jim, don’t you _dare-_ “

“Keptin?” Chekov prompts, looking first at Kirk then McCoy with his usual pleasant expression, as if he hadn’t seen either of them naked at one time or another.

Kirk improvises quickly. “Doctor McCoy needs someone to assist him with a few things in Sickbay, if you wouldn’t mind? Lieutenant Johnson can fill in for you for the time being.” As if Chekov would really say no to him.

Chekov nods. “Not at all, Keptin, I’d be happy to. Doctor?” He looks at McCoy with such an innocent expression that McCoy’s beginning to wonder if he’d imagined what had transpired between the two of them in his office.

“Yeah, go on ahead, I’ll be right with you,” he says gruffly, trying to keep his temper, but boy is Kirk making it difficult.

Chekov just nods and heads for the turbolift. McCoy leans down to Kirk again. “Are you outta your mind?”

Kirk smiles. “Your shift ended some time ago, so why you’re still here is beyond me, and it’s quiet up here, I don’t specifically need Chekov at the helm.” He lowers his voice ever so slightly. “He’s pretty damn good with his mouth, just FYI, but I’m sure you already know that.”

McCoy feels as if he’s about to have an aneurysm. “I’m sorry, _what-“_ he starts, but Kirk shakes his head, waving him away.

“Go and enjoy yourself,” he says, and McCoy storms off, a whole bridge of witnesses being the whole thing stopping him from punching Kirk in his goddamn smug face. Chekov’s patiently waiting for him, and McCoy almost drags him into the lift.

Chekov has barely opened his mouth when McCoy has him against the wall of the lift, one knee pressed between Chekov’s thighs, holding him in place.

“You do know this is grievous misuse of Starfleet property,” Chekov says softly, little breaths of air brushing McCoy’s skin.

McCoy just grunts and moves closer. “I got a bone to pick with you,” he says, changing the subject.

Chekov smiles. “Oh, do you now?” He looks up at McCoy innocently, one hand running down along McCoy’s side and grazing against his crotch. McCoy grabs his wrist, pinning both to the wall above his head, in case he has any other ideas. Chekov tries to stifle the gasp rising in his throat.

“To vhat do I owe the pleasure, _Doctor?”_ he asks, unable to keep the smirk from his lips when he sees how McCoy reacts to his title being used in this setting.

“A little birdy told me you and the Captain have been…let’s say, intimate,” McCoy replies, lips brushing against Chekov’s. He refuses to let Chekov take control of the situation.

A little shiver runs up Chekov’s spine and he presses himself as close to McCoy as his limited movements will allow. “He did?” His teeth worry at his bottom lip, and he bats his eyelashes at McCoy. “And you are vhat…jealous?”

McCoy looks at him darkly, tightening his grip on Chekov’s wrists, and Chekov can’t help the moan that escapes him, his back arching and pushing him closer to McCoy. Of course he knows how strong McCoy is, he’s well-acquainted with that knowledge, but it doesn’t stop it from being any less of a turn on.

“You can do what you like, I don’t own you,” McCoy says quickly, deliberately avoiding the question. He drops Chekov’s wrists, pressing a chaste kiss to his mouth. Chekov sighs into the kiss, but before he has the chance to do anything else, McCoy’s hands are on his shoulders, pushing him to his knees. Chekov goes willingly, looking up at McCoy with a curious expression.

“He told me you’ve got a real talented mouth,” McCoy says nonchalantly, as if he were making a passing comment about the weather. “You wanna prove him right?”

Chekov nods eagerly, fingers deftly undoing McCoy’s trousers and pulling them down around his thighs. There’s a part of McCoy that wants to stop this, take Chekov back to his quarters and do it right – he isn’t an animal, for God’s sake. But then Chekov’s hand is curling around his cock and all thoughts of stopping this are gone. He huffs a sigh, bracing himself against the wall behind him. For all of Chekov’s bratty shortcomings, he certainly makes up for it in this – not that McCoy is going to tell him that anytime soon. It’s bad enough that Kirk has an ego as big as he does, he doesn’t need Chekov’s the same. One Kirk is plenty enough for him, thank you very much.

Chekov trails his fist gently up and down McCoy’s cock, teasingly slowly, determined to drag McCoy to his limit. Which, with his quick temper and short patience, isn’t going to take long.

“Dammit, kid, get on with it,” he gripes through gritted teeth, right on cue and not even a minute later. Chekov smiles to himself, but says nothing, doing as he’s told and taking McCoy’s cock into his mouth. All fight immediately leaves McCoy and he leans his head back against the wall of the turbolift, fingers trailing through Chekov’s hair as Chekov takes him the whole way into his mouth, pace gradually increasing as he finds his rhythm. McCoy tries to keep quiet, doesn’t want Chekov knowing how much power he has over him right now, but _fuck_ he can’t help it, he’s gasping and moaning in a matter of minutes – he hates to admit it, but dammit Kirk was right, Chekov is _good_ and he knows he’s not going to last long, not with the way Chekov’s moving against him and Christ, the little moans escaping his throat are sending shivers shooting through McCoy’s body, and then Chekov’s pulling back and sinking down onto him again, and McCoy can’t hold back any longer and he’s coming in Chekov’s mouth. Chekov lets him ride it out, pulling back to look up at him with a sly smile as he lick at his bottom lip.

“Vell?” he asks as if he already knows the answer, running a finger along his mouth.

“You’re a brat,” McCoy huffs between uneven breaths.

“How vas I?” Chekov persists, as if he were being graded on a test.

“You were alright,” McCoy says casually, but he can’t stop the smile from creeping onto his face. Chekov pouts, getting to his feet.

“You owe me.”

McCoy presses a hard kiss to Chekov’s lips as he rights himself. “Later, darlin’, I promise.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit all over the place, I know, but I hope it wasn't too difficult to read. Thank you for reading!
> 
> (Also, for anyone reading this fic who is subscribed to my McKirk fic in progress - I promise you that I haven't abandoned it. I recently started second year of college and have been super busy, but I'm still working on it and hope to have something substantial to post soon. Thank you for your patience!)


End file.
